Mission: Possible
by 3rdgal
Summary: Charlie is attacked and develops amnesia. Cowritten with rittenden.
1. Chapter 1

A/N (by **3rdgal**): This is a co-operative effort between **3rdgal** and **rittenden** (waves) to celebrate posting milestones. Through considerable effort and an unbelievable amount of emails, we've finally managed to pull this off. Here's hoping people enjoy it!

Disclaimer (by **rittenden**): _The characters depicted in this work of fiction belong to CBS, Cheryl Heu…_ It was all **3rdgal**'s idea! I swear! I didn't want to touch them – she made me do it! I'll put them back! I promise! Please don't sue me! (Just kidding – they're only borrowed, folks.)

**Mission: Possible**

Crack! 

Don Eppes watched as the baseball flew up into the air and landed a mere ten feet in front of him. Pop fly.

Sighing in frustration, he assumed his stance and waited for the next pitch. He couldn't seem to focus tonight, and it was all Charlie's fault. Why hadn't his little brother said yes? Don's thoughts were cut short as the next pitch arrived. 

Same pitch, same swing, same result.

"Dammit," Don swore. Normally he could relieve stress in the batting cage, but tonight was different. "Dropping your back shoulder," he muttered to himself. "Keep your back shoulder up and swing level." Charlie had said he was too busy grading papers. Too busy to spend time with his brother. 

Crack! This time the ball traveled a little further, landing just in front of third base. 

"All arms," Don scolded himself. "Rotate your hips and swing through the ball." So he hadn't said "I want to spend time with you" in so many words, but he thought his intentions had been obvious. Charlie, little brother super genius, but a dunce when it came to subtlety. Don supposed he hadn't been that good with subtlety either when they were growing up. He could hear his father's voice in his head, "You're the oldest, Donnie. You have to set an example for Charlie." He laughed bitterly. Guess he'd failed to teach _that_ particular lesson. 

Don swung at the next pitch and missed. The light on the pitching machine went out, indicating that Don was out of throws. Knowing it was late and he had no more tokens for the machine, Don gathered his stuff and exited the cage. He knew he was the last customer remaining, and smiled apologetically at the night manager when he left.

As he reached the parking lot his cell phone began to ring. He unclipped it from his belt and checked the caller ID. Recognizing Charlie's number, but not wanting to deal with his brother right now, Don silenced the ringer and replaced it in its holder. He wearily climbed into his vehicle and frowned as the phone rang again. He looked - Charlie's number again. Sighing in defeat, he answered. "Eppes."

"Don!" 

His heart froze at the panic in his younger brother's voice. "Charlie? What is it?"

"Come quick!"

"What's wrong?" 

"Please," Charlie begged desperately. "I need you." His voice cracked. "_Please_, Don."

"Okay," Don tried to soothe him. "I'm on my way."

"Hurry," Charlie whispered brokenly as the phone went dead.

"Charlie? Charlie!" Don gunned the engine and sped toward Charlie's house. His stomach knotted with worry as he raced down the streets, wishing the SUV could go faster.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy vehicle practically stood on end as it screeched to a stop in front of Charlie's newly-acquired Craftsman home. Don left the door open as he raced inside. "Charlie!" he yelled, standing in the hallway. He began a hurried search of the house. No one upstairs. "Charlie! Dad!" He ran through the kitchen, scanning the living room on his way by. _The garage, _he thought desperately. It was the most likely place to find his brother in times of great stress.

Throwing the door open, one hand on his gun where it rode on his hip, Don searched the cluttered space for his younger brother. Chalkboards covered in Charlie's familiar scrawl occupied every available wall and an easel or two. The old couch Charlie had rescued from the solarium when their mother had decided to redecorate gave no clue as to where the young genius was, or what Charlie'd been going through before his panicked call.

Don scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustration mounting. "Where the hell _are_ you, Charlie?" he yelled. No answer. He sped back into the house and headed for the back door. _If he's not out here..._ Don left the thought unfinished. He didn't know what he would do to his brother for scaring him like that and then disappearing, but he'd bet his next paycheck it would turn out ugly. 

On the back step was a clutter of Alan's gardening tools. _That's odd_, Don thought, frowning. His father was religious about putting the implements away ever since their unfortunate run-in with a sudden rainstorm a few years ago. It had taken weeks of repetitive oiling to get them back to normal. Scanning the area quickly, Don was about to turn and re-enter the house when something out of the corner of his eye gave him pause. 

The back gate was open.

Don stepped cautiously onto the well-manicured lawn, his hand automatically going to his gun. He drew it out and held it in both hands, pointed downward. The gate led into an alley and was only opened when someone was taking garbage to the bin out back. Standing with his back against the fence, Don peered through the opening. What he saw nearly made his heart stop beating.

A few feet in front of him, there were two men dragging his brother toward a van idling at the end of the alley. Don felt a tingling of panic, which he quickly forced aside. He stepped into the alley and raised his gun, taking aim at the two men. "FBI! Freeze!"

The startled men glanced back toward him. At the same time, Don heard a gunshot and flinched as a bullet struck the gate next to his head. He dropped into a crouch and pulled back into the yard, peering down the alley from behind the protection of the fence. He saw a third man in the van aiming a gun in his direction. He ducked back again as another gunshot rang out.

Frantic thoughts were racing through his head. He couldn't very well fire at the men as long as Charlie was in the line of fire, but he damn sure wasn't going to let them take his brother. Making a quick decision, he drew a deep breath and steeled his nerves. He quickly darted out of the yard and toward the men holding his brother, crouching low and pressing himself against the fence lining the side of the alley.

He heard gunshots and was amazed that he didn't feel any of them slam into him. _Stay small_, he kept reminding himself as he sprinted after his brother.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly the gunfire stopped. He saw Charlie lying in a heap on the ground, abandoned by the two men as they rushed to the van. He held his breath, certain Charlie had been struck by one of the bullets. He kept running and finally reached his brother, throwing himself down and shielding Charlie's body with his own. He felt the young man beneath him trembling, and allowed himself to breathe again. Quickly looking up at the van, he just managed to catch a glimpse of a one and a three on the license plate before turning his head to avoid the spray of gravel from the tires as the vehicle sped away.

Once he was certain the danger had passed, he pushed himself off of Charlie and helped him into a sitting position. Don held him by the shoulders as he studied his appearance. There was a large, purple bruise forming on his cheek and a bloody gash on his forehead.

"Are you hurt anywhere else besides your head?" Don asked as he glanced down over the rest of Charlie's body. Charlie's eyes found his, but he was too traumatized to speak. "Hold on, Charlie." Don flipped his cell phone open and called for an ambulance. Once he was certain they were on the way, he dialed Megan's number.

"Reeves." 

"It's Don. Someone attacked Charlie at his house."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Is he okay?"

"He's hurt, but I don't think it's too bad. I've called for an ambulance already, but I don't want to leave him alone until they get here. Can you call the local authorities?"

"Sure. Colby and I are on our way, too."

"Thanks." Don flipped his phone shut and glanced back down at his brother. Charlie was staring up at him in a daze. Don's heart broke at the fear in his eyes. He gently cupped the back of his neck. "Are you with me, Charlie?"

Charlie managed a shaky nod.

"Good. Can you tell me where Dad is?"

"Art's." 

Charlie's voice was barely a whisper and Don had to strain to hear the reply. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad his father hadn't been attacked, too. He stood and gently pulled Charlie up with him, looping his arm around his waist. Don half-guided, half-carried his little brother back into the house, sitting him down at the dining table. He left him long enough to fetch a dish towel from the kitchen. He pressed it against the gash, wincing as Charlie hissed in pain.

"Sorry," Don apologized as he maintained pressure on the bloody wound. "The ambulance is on its way, okay?"

"I don't-"

"No arguments," Don cut him off. "Head wounds are never to be taken lightly, even with a head as hard as yours." Don felt his spirits lift a bit as Charlie managed to smile at the teasing comment. He took a deep breath and placed his other hand on his brother's shoulder. He gently squeezed it as he spoke. "Can you tell me what happened?" 

Charlie gave a small nod. "I was... I was in the yard. Dad asked me to tend to the... "He shook his head in frustration and immediately winced. Don admonished gently, "Don't do that."

"Tell me about it," Charlie replied. "Whatever. The flowers." Don frowned but didn't speak. "I'd just put the... tools... on the step. I turned around, and there was this guy standing there." He looked up at his brother. "He hit me, Don," Charlie said in a small voice. "Right here." He lifted a hand to the dish towel Don had pressed to his forehead.

Don searched his brother's eyes. "What did he hit you with, Charlie?" he asked.

"I... I don't..." Frustration clouded his features. Don could hear sirens growing in volume. "Never mind, Charlie," he interrupted. "Try this: What did the guy look like?"

"He was..." Charlie frowned in concentration. "He was big. Red hair."

Don could've screamed. The men in the alley had been of average build, and they were wearing ball caps. Even Don with his years of training in observation hadn't been able to see the color of their hair. "Okay, buddy," he said soothingly. The damn ambulance wasn't getting there fast enough to suit him. "One last question, Charlie, okay?" he asked. He saw his brother's dark eyes drifting shut. "Stay awake, Charlie!" he commanded, relieved when Charlie obeyed. "Stay with me, buddy," Don added in a softer tone. "Which flowers did Dad tell you to look after, Charlie? Which ones?" The young mathematician stared at him blankly for a moment. Don had to fight the urge to shake him. "Which ones, Charlie?" he repeated, his voice gaining volume in his fright. His little brother knew those flower beds almost as well as he knew numbers. The front door opened and Megan came in, followed by a team of paramedics and Colby Granger. Don stepped back to let them work, almost missing Charlie's whispered response.

"Lilacs." 

Don's hand went to his mouth. Megan watched him with concern. The paramedics put Charlie on a stretcher and quickly wheeled him out of the house to the waiting unit. Colby asked, "Don? Do you want to go with them, or do you want someone to drive you?"

"I'll - I'll drive. Colby... you follow me," Don replied shakily. Turning to Megan, he added, "Can you go to Art's and pick up my dad?"

"Sure, Don," she agreed. "Whatever you need." He was about to turn away when she caught his sleeve. "Don, what's the matter?" she asked.

Don seemed to be looking straight through her. "Lilacs."

Megan shook her head in confusion. "I don't get it, Don. What about them?"

Rubbing his hands over his face, Don tried to explain. "I asked Charlie what happened tonight." He let his hands drop to his sides. "He said he was out tending to the flowers when he got attacked. He couldn't give me a reliable description of the guys that did it..." Don trailed off, staring over her shoulder as the full realization of what happened sank in. "I asked... I asked him which flowers he was working on." He dropped his gaze to Megan's face. "You know Charlie and those damn flowers, Megan. Him and Dad - they know every bloody one." She nodded, waiting for him to continue. Don dropped his gaze to the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. "He said he was working on the lilacs."

"Yeah? So?" Megan couldn't make the connection.

"Megan," Don sighed. "There aren't any lilacs out there." He glanced at her briefly before heading out the door.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

At the hospital, Don was met by a bossy intern who had definite ideas of who should and should not be allowed into the exam room. Don apparently fell into the category of 'not allowed'.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to stay over there," he commanded, indicating a nearby waiting room. His voice didn't sound in the least bit apologetic.

Don clenched his jaw in frustration and pulled out his ID. Flashing the badge, he growled, "FBI. A man was just brought in here with head trauma. I'm going to see him."

The intern smirked slightly, ready to throw his weight around. "I don't care _who_ you are. You're going to have to wait until the resident says you can see him."

Colby stepped up beside Don and set his hands on his hips – gun, badge and physique on full display. "Maybe you didn't hear the man," he said quietly. "We're going to go see him."

The smirk faltered slightly. "I'll speak to the resident and see what she says," he replied. He hurried over to the screened off area.

"Pipsqueak," Colby muttered.

Don agreed. "Probably has an issue with a woman running the show." 

Colby grinned. "Maybe we should have him meet Megan," he proposed.

Don smiled faintly, but his heart wasn't in it. He needed to know how bad off Charlie was. He just about fell over in relief when he saw the resident emerge from behind the screen, followed by the annoying intern. The man glanced once in their direction and then beat a hasty retreat down another hallway.

The resident approached them confidently. "You're here for the patient with the head trauma?" she asked.

Don nodded. "His name is Charlie Eppes," he supplied. "I'm his brother, Don, and this is my associate Colby Granger." Colby nodded and stuck out his hand, which she took. "Samantha Girard," she said.

Once the formalities with over, she looked at Don disapprovingly. "I was wondering why the FBI was so interested in him," she began, but Don cut her off.

"Sorry about that," he said. "That guy was getting on my nerves." 

"Mine too," Colby agreed.

She shook her head. "He does at that," she agreed softly. In a louder tone, she said, "Your brother is suffering from a concussion, Agent Eppes. With a thorough examination and some rest, he should be fine in a few days."

"Can I see him?" Don asked hopefully.

Doctor Girard nodded. "This way," she said, heading back toward the screens. Before Don could follow, however, he heard a familiar voice call his name. Turning, Don saw his father make his way through the people milling around to his side. "Donny, what happened? Where's Charlie?"

Don rested his hand lightly on his father's shoulder. "C'mon, Dad," he answered. "Doctor Girard is taking me to see him now." He steered the older man to the exam area. "Charlie got hit on the head, is all," he said by way of explanation.

His father wasn't to be deterred. "_How_ did he get hit on the head, Don?" he asked.

Don dropped his hand and stood shuffling his feet. He could sense the doctor watching them. "Someone..." he began uncertainly. He took a deep breath and met his father's questioning gaze. "Someone came into the yard, hit Charlie on the head, and tried to drag him off into a van." There. It was out. "And before you ask," he continued when he saw his father's mouth drop open. "No, I didn't catch them. I don't know how or when Charlie called me. When I got there, two guys were attempting to drag him into a van parked in the back alley."

"But you stopped them, Donny," he father said softly. "That's all that counts."

Don shook his head vehemently. "No, Dad. That isn't all that counts," he growled, his tone murderous. "I'm going to find those guys, and when I do..." He trailed off. Nodding at the resident Don said, "C'mon. Let's go see Charlie." He looked at Colby.

"I'll head back," the other agent said. "Let us know how he's doing, okay?' Don smiled his thanks. The doctor cleared her throat softly. "This way, gentlemen," she said.

Don and Alan entered the exam area, hesitating as they saw Charlie. He was lying in bed, eyes closed, oblivious to their arrival. He had a white bandage wrapped around his head which was a stark contrast to the purple bruise that now covered his entire left cheek. They approached the bed and gazed at him, taking comfort in the simple rise and fall of his chest.

Charlie's eyes slowly opened as he sensed their presence. He focused on Don and then on his father. "Dad?" His voice was quiet but full of need. 

"I'm here," Alan assured him. He reached out and brushed his hand over his son's dark curls, making sure to avoid his injury. "You're okay now."

Charlie turned his gaze back to his big brother. "Did you get them?" 

Don bit his lip and shook his head. "Not yet, buddy." At Charlie's look of alarm, he quickly continued. "We will though, I promise." Don felt an enormous wave of guilt at the trusting look Charlie gave him. Here he was, with no decent descriptions of the assailants, and the only description of the vehicle was a large blue or black van with a one and a three in the license plate. He wondered how in the world he was going to make good on his promise.

"Donny!" 

Don looked up at the sharp tone of his father's voice. "Sorry, what?"

"Charlie was asking if you were going to be staying at the house for a while when he gets to go home." Alan gave him a pointed look, daring Don to say no.

"Of course, Charlie. I can stay for a few days." A look of relief flooded across Charlie's face. "But don't expect me to wait on you hand and foot." Don grinned as he teased his little brother, who gave him a tired smile in return.

"When can I go home?"

"The doctor will be here in a minute," Alan informed him. "She'll give us more details."

As if on cue, Dr. Girard appeared. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Eppes. I've gone over your test results and I can tell you that you are suffering from a mild concussion. I don't foresee any possible complications, and I see no reason to keep you here overnight." She glanced at Don and Alan. "Provided, of course, that someone is able to stay with you." At their nods, she continued. "You are definitely going to have a bit of a headache for a while, and possibly some blurred vision. If any other unusual symptoms should appear, I want you to call me immediately, day or night. Got it?"

"Yes," Charlie answered.

"Alright Agent Eppes, if you want to go get your car, your father and I will go over Charlie's discharge instructions. We'll meet you out front."

Don turned and left the exam area. He was happy that Charlie was okay, and more than happy to stay over at his house to keep an eye on things. The only part that still concerned him is that these men were still out there, and he had no idea if or when they might strike again. He was going to be watching Charlie like a hawk, but knew he'd still need some help. He made his decision and called his team to ask them for a really big favor.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"Easy, Charlie," Don gently scolded as his brother reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. He'd stretched a bit too much and had come dangerously close to falling out of the bed. "Let me do it." 

Charlie accepted the glass from Don, and greedily gulped it down. Finishing, he handed the glass back. "I thought you said you _weren't_ going to wait on me hand and foot?"

Don smiled and shrugged. "First night home is different. Extenuating circumstances you might say."

Charlie rolled his eyes and settled back against his pillows. He watched as Don shook out a blanket and settled into the wingback chair that had been moved into his room earlier. He knew there was no way in the world his big brother was going to get a good night's sleep if he stayed in that chair.

"You can share the bed, Don."

Don shook his head. "I'll be fine right here."

"Liar," Charlie snorted. "Seriously, there's plenty of room. I don't mind." 

Don studied his brother's face. Was he sacrificing his comfort for Don's, or did he really want him that much closer so he could feel safe? Charlie shifted uncomfortably under his brother's gaze, leading Don to suspect it was a little bit of both. Don grinned.

"You asked for it." He moved to the bed and sat down, careful not to move the mattress too much. "Don't you dare try to hog the covers." 

Charlie grinned. "I said I'd share the bed, not the covers."

Don automatically reached out to playfully shove his brother before catching himself. Instead he smiled and lay back on the bed. He reached out and switched off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. "If you need anything – water, bathroom needs, whatever – you wake me up first. Got it?"

"Yeah." 

Don yawned and placed his hands underneath his head as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. He knew that, any minute now, Colby would be pulling his car up in front of the house to keep an eye on things overnight. He also knew that by the time everyone got up in the morning, Colby would be long gone. Don had specifically made that request, not wanting Charlie to know how concerned he really was. 

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Don was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange sound. At first, he couldn't identify it or the source. It only took a few moments for him to realize…

_Charlie_ _was_ _crying_.

Switching on the lamp, he turned to look at his brother. For all that he could see, Charlie was sound asleep on his side, with tears welling in his closed eyes. The ones already shed had trickled down, soaking the pillow under his cheek. Don laid his hand on his brother's shoulder and shook him gently. "Charlie."

No response. Throwing caution to the wind, Don shook harder. "Charlie!" he called, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. He was about to reach for his cell phone when he heard a faint reply. "Don? What is it?"

Don let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Charlie," he said in relief. "You were crying."

"I was?" came the puzzled response.

"Yeah, buddy, you were. Check your pillow if you don't believe me."

Charlie rubbed his hand over the smooth cotton. "It's wet," he said wonderingly.

Don chuckled. "Of course it's wet. What, you think math professors cry differently from other people?" His expression sobered as he remembered why the pillowcase now needed changing. "Charlie," he said, "Why were you crying?"

"I – I don't know. I can't remember…"

Don lay back down on the bed. "It's okay, buddy. It was probably just a dream."

"No." Something in his brother's voice made Don sit up again. "No, Don. I mean I can't remember."

"Remember what?" Don asked. "Charlie – what can't you remember?" He waited tensely for the response. After several agonizing moments, it finally arrived.

"Anything."

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Alan came downstairs in the early morning hours to fix breakfast. Usually the peace and quiet of the household had the effect of composing him and preparing him to face the new day, but not today.

"Don? What are you doing up?"

His eldest son looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and betraying acutely the exhaustion he was feeling. He had been resting his head on his arms at the dining room table. "Hey, Dad," he replied by way of greeting.

Alan looked at him with one eyebrow cocked. "You know," he said. "Most people prefer a bed to sleep on."

Don shook his head. "Tried that. I was lying down with Charlie."

"In the same bed?" Don nodded. "Well of course you didn't get any sleep. A little thing like Charlie's bed can't hold two people." He moved to enter the kitchen, but something in Don's next words stopped him. "Dad – about Charlie…"

Alan turned back and pulled out a chair. "What about him?" he asked carefully.

"He's…" Don shook his head. "He – we've got to take him back."

"What? Where?" When he got no reply, Alan tried again. "Where do we have to take him back to?"

Don sat up and rubbed his eyes. "The hospital, Dad," he sighed heavily. "Charlie has to go back to the hospital. Today."

Alan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But _why_ does he have to go back, Donny?"

Don looked at his father sorrowfully. "Dad," he began and then stopped. This had the unexpected effect of making Alan angry. "Don Eppes, would you be so kind as to explain yourself? Just come out and say it!"

"Charlie's lost his memory, Dad."

Alan felt his insides go cold. "_What_?" he breathed.

Don nodded and proceeded to tell his father of the night's events. When he was done, Alan asked, "Why didn't you call the hospital right away? You heard what Doctor Girard said – any time, day or night."

Don sighed. "I know, but…" He shook his head. "When he realized what had happened – you should have seen him, Dad. He was so scared. I didn't have the heart to tell him he had to go back to the hospital." He hung his head. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it."

Alan put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "All right, Don. Okay. But now we should call…"

"No. It took him hours to go back to sleep." Don lifted his head and looked at his father with pleading eyes. "Can't we just let him sleep? Just for a little while longer? When he's sleeping…" he trailed off.

"…He's not afraid," Alan finished. At Don's nod, he gave in. "All right, Donny. We'll let him sleep for a couple more hours." Don smiled in relief. "But _you_, my son," he added, "Are also going to sleep." He stood decisively, his tone firm. "Couch. Now. Go."

Don pushed back from the table. "I'm going, I'm going," he muttered, protesting weakly to save face.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"About time. What the hell happened the other night?"

"He managed to get a hold of the phone before we grabbed him. Little twerp called his brother."

"You idiot. I warned you his brother was a fed."

"Just chill. We'll get him."

"We've got less than a week. Are you sure you can grab him in time?"

"We came highly recommended, didn't we?"

"Yes, but-"

"Just be patient. His brother is staying with him and has some of his fed buddies watching the house at night. We're just going to have to be a little more creative, that's all."

"How are you going to get to him if he's being babysat all the time?"

"We guaranteed you results no matter what. If that means that we have to take out a couple of feds, then that's exactly what we'll do."

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Alan smiled down at his son as he slept. He reached out and brushed his hand through Charlie's dark curls, trying to ease the worry in his heart. He was so scared of what the doctor's diagnosis might be. All he wanted to do was gather his youngest in his arms and hold him until they woke up from this nightmare. But he knew they couldn't hide from the truth forever.

"Charlie," he spoke quietly as he shook his son's shoulder.

"Mmm," he mumbled as he sleepily rolled away from Alan's hand.

"Come on, Charlie. You have to wake up now."

Charlie's eyes opened and peered at his father in the dimness of the room. "Dad?"

Alan smiled softly and nodded. "We need to go see Dr. Girard again."

Charlie's eyes widened as his current condition dawned on his sleepy mind. "I don't want to go," he whimpered, sounding exactly as he had when he was a child.

"I know," Alan soothed as sat on the bed next to his son. "But this is the first step in getting better."

"I'm scared."

"I know. But Don and I will both be there with you."

Charlie reluctantly nodded and winced as his head protested. "Give me a few minutes to get ready, Dad."

"Sure," Alan agreed. "Call me if you need help." He stood and exited the room. He turned to close the door behind him, frowning as he caught a glimpse of Charlie.

His youngest son had stood and moved to his dresser, studying the haphazard pile of notebooks lying on the top. Alan figured they were the latest notes on Charlie's Cognitive Emergence Theory – something he couldn't even pretend to understand. What alarmed him was the look of bewilderment and confusion on Charlie's face as he skimmed the pages. He looked around and saw his father still standing in the doorway. "Is this mine?"

"Yes. Do you remember it?"

Charlie's voice trembled as he answered. "No. It's just a bunch of numbers."

Alan felt his heart shatter. Where would his son be without the comfort and security of his math? He forced his voice to remain steady and calm. "Let's not worry about that right now. Just finish getting ready while I wake your brother up, okay?" At Charlie's nod, he continued, "Good. I'll see you downstairs in fifteen minutes."

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Dr. Girard frowned. "I thought I told you…" she began. Don made a small gesture with his head indicating he wanted to speak to her alone. Nodding at his father, he moved away from the bed where Charlie lay and waited for her to join him. "I would've brought him in when I found out, Doc," he explained in a low tone, "But he was absolutely terrified." He sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. "Besides," he added. "It was four-thirty in the damn morning. A guy's gotta sleep sometime."

She nodded, the frown still in place. "I understand your concern, Agent Eppes. Believe me, I do." Crossing her arms, Doctor Girard added, "However, we've found the best way to deal with traumatic amnesia is an immediate and aggressive treatment."

Don stiffened. "'Aggressive'?"

"It's just a term we use." She smiled. "We don't strap him down and shock the hell out of him, if that's what you're thinking."

"Well, yeah," Don replied, allowing a small grin to appear. "It sounded like it."

"Not to worry." She turned and went back to Charlie's side. "Well, then," she said brightly. "Looks like you and I have a date with an MRI machine, eh Charlie?"

"We… we do?" Don fought to school his expression. If he ever found the guys that put that heartbreakingly confused expression on his baby brother's face…

"Yep." Doctor Girard moved to the counter that lined one side of the room. Picking up a clipboard that lay there, she continued, "We'll get a couple of guys up here to move you and…"

"_NO!_" Charlie bolted up out of the bed and searched desperately for an escape route. There was only one door, and Doctor Girard was standing between him and freedom. He froze in terror as he felt Don wrap his arms around him.

"Charlie." Don spoke in a low, steady tone. "It's okay, buddy. We're right here. Dad and I are right here, and we'll stay with you every step of the way, all right?" Some of the tension crept out of his brother's body as he continued, "We'll ask Doctor Girard to not to send the guys, okay? Just a couple of pretty girls for you to look at. What do you say?"

Frowning slightly, the doctor made a notation in Charlie's file. "That's right, Charlie. No guys. I think if I look hard enough I can find a couple of good-looking nurses to bring you down." She smiled but the speculative look didn't disappear from her eyes. "Maybe I'll take you myself," she added.

Charlie gulped. Nodding, he allowed Don to ease him back into bed. He looked at Alan. "You'll stay?" he whispered.

"Of course," Alan replied amiably. "I never said I was going anywhere, did I?" He took Charlie's hand in one of his own. "I'll be right here every minute."

"Okay." Doctor Girard tucked the clipboard under her arm. "I'll be right back," she said as she left the room.

"Charlie." When his brother looked at him Don said, "I'll be right back, too. Okay? I promise." Charlie nodded again, but the panicked look was still there. "I promise, buddy – right back. Two minutes. Okay?" He couldn't stand the fear in his brother's eyes.

Charlie seemed to relax a bit. "Okay," he murmured. Don looked at his father briefly. When Alan nodded as well, he slipped out of the room and headed down the corridor. Locating the door he wanted, he stepped inside and turned the deadbolt.

Don Eppes, promising FBI team leader, pillar of solidarity in the face of some of humankind's most heinous acts, knelt on the floor of a public restroom on the fourth floor of UCLA Medical Center and proceeded to lose his breakfast.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

True to his word, Don returned to his brother's side in short order, no evidence of his weakness in sight. He was painfully aware of his family's reliance on him, and would die before he let on how much Charlie's current situation bothered him. He had stopped at the duty station outside for a second to confer with the doctor about the MRI – more to lend credibility to the excuse he planned on using than anything else. Doctor Girard assured him Charlie was scheduled for an emergency scan and would be heading down to the radiology department within the half hour. He thanked her and re-entered the exam room. Alan looked up when he came in. "What'd you find out?" he asked.

Don smiled disarmingly at his brother. "She's got 'em all lined up outside and she's picking the best two," he joked. Winking at his father, he added, "She wouldn't let me help her choose though – something about not being sure your taste would be the same as mine."

"Probably not," Charlie agreed. A small scowl appeared. "At least… I don't think so."

Alan patted his shoulder. "Trust me, son. They're nothing alike."

Don rubbed his forehead. "I'll probably be able to stick around for a little while," he said. "But I _will_ have to go into work today sometime."

"You feeling alright, Don?" his father asked.

"Great." He glanced at the door. "Look, I have to call the office. Doctor Girard said Charlie'd be going down in half an hour or less. I'm just gonna go find a phone, okay?"

Alan looked at Charlie, who nodded. "All right," he replied. "Just don't take too long Don."

"I'll be right back, Dad." Don looked his brother in the eye. "I promise."

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Colby picked up the phone on the second ring. "Granger."

"It's me."

"Hey, Don. How's Charlie doing?" He set down the file he was holding and leaned his elbows on the desk in front of him.

"Still pretty spooked. They're taking him down for an MRI," Don paused. "Hopefully we'll get some good news."

Colby frowned at the weariness in his boss' voice. "How are _you_ doing, Don?"

"Don't ask." He sighed, "I'll be better once we find the bastards that did this."

"I ran the plates on that car I saw last night. It belongs to the Dollar Daze rental company. Rented by a Michael Carbano with bogus ID, address, you name it. He hasn't returned the car and I'm thinking he's not going to."

"Good guess." Colby could picture his boss scrubbing one hand through his unruly hair. "Anything else?"

"The van search gave us twelve hundred vans that fit the blue or black possible makes and partial plate you gave us."

"Damn. I should have been able to get more."

"You were protecting Charlie. You did what needed to be done." Colby paused as he waited for Don to respond. After a moment of silence he continued "We _will_ get them, Don."

"Yeah," Don laughed bitterly. "Before or after they try to grab Charlie again?" Taking a deep breath, he changed the subject. "Any word on the safe house?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid. The higher ups think this is just a random attack. They don't want us using the safe house unless Charlie is a witness in a major federal case." Colby shook his head, even though he knew the other man couldn't see him. "Sorry, Don. Have you got any where else you can take him?"

Don paused again. "My apartment, I guess. But I wouldn't be surprised if they knew who I was and where I lived."

"The offer on my cabin still stands. It's listed under my sister's married name, so it would be very difficult to link to me, much less back to you."

"It's so far away from the hospital, though. I mean, what if something happened to Charlie? He'd be too far away from help."

"Talk to the doctor about Charlie's condition," Colby offered. "Let her know you've got other concerns about his health and safety. See what she suggests."

"Yeah." Don's voice lost its strained edge. "Colby… you and the team... well… you've all been great. You know you don't have to-"

"It's not a problem," Colby interrupted firmly. "You'd do the same for us."

"Still, I really appreciate it." Don paused and Colby heard a voice in the back ground. "They're taking him down now. I'll call you later."

Colby heard Don disconnect and flipped his own phone shut. He stared at the list of vans on his desk and sighed. Four hundred vans apiece, if he split them with Megan and David. And since it was technically an LAPD case, all the time required would have to be off the clock. Not that he minded, but they were already running pretty thin with having someone watch the Eppes' residence at night.

If only Charlie were healthy. He would probably come up with some ridiculously complicated theory involving time travel and space aliens, and narrow the list down to one van in an hour. Colby smiled at the thought. He was slowly becoming used to – and even appreciative of – the young genius' presence on cases. He always seemed to have a good idea that helped cut down on the leg work, and even make things a little safer for agents in the field. And to think Colby'd been annoyed to no end when they had first met. Now he wanted Charlie back in the FBI office more than anything else.

"Granger!"

Colby looked up to find Megan standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"We may have something on the rental car. LAPD just responded to our bolo. They found one matching that description in the parking lot at LAX."

Colby scooped the files on the van into his desk drawer as he stood. "Let's go."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

"It's me."

"What have you got?"

"They got turned down for the safe house."

"What's Eppes' plan of action?"

"I'm not sure. He's been at the hospital with his brother."

"He's back in the hospital?"

"Yeah. Eppes' team is being pretty tight-lipped about the details."

"As soon as you hear something..."

"I'll let you know."

He smiled as his contact hung up. Nothing like having your very own FBI agent keeping you up to date.

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Don waited until Charlie was settled back in the exam room before he broke the news to him. "I have to go to work now, buddy," he began. "I'd much rather stay here with you, but…"

Alan interrupted, "Isn't there some way you can take the day off, Don? I'm sure your brother would rather you stuck around for a while."

Don cast his father an irritated glance, about to say something along the lines of 'they won't cut me a paycheck for sitting around', when he realized something very important: His father needed him just as much as Charlie did. He nodded once. "All right. I'll see if I can get them to put it towards my holidays." Moving toward the door, Don added, "I'll be right back."

Once in the corridor, Don opted to go outside and use his cell phone instead of bugging the staff for a land line. He really needed to take a walk in the fresh air and clear his head. Pushing the button for the elevator, he thought back through the situation.

_What the hell would someone want to kidnap Charlie for?_

No answer to that one. Next question.

_Who was Michael Carbano, and why was he watching the house?_

Don shook his head. All questions that he couldn't begin to answer – at least not without some sleep. He stepped into the elevator as the doors slid open, moving to one side while a couple of orderlies got on. He pushed the button for the ground floor. "What number?" he asked the other two.

"Basement, thanks," one of them replied. Don nodded absentmindedly.

Later on he would blame fatigue for his slow reaction to the pinprick in his neck. He brought his arm up to fend off the two men grabbing him, but it felt like he was moving underwater. Don watched as if in slow motion as one of the men put a key into the override for the car and sent it directly to the basement.

"Some tough FBI agent you turned out to be," the other one laughed mirthlessly. "You're just a pu--ycat really, aren't you, Special Agent Eppes?"

"Shut up," the other one growled. "It's not playtime." He turned to face Don. "How're you feeling, Fed?"

Truth be told, Don was feeling pretty damn lousy. His knees seemed to have turned to water, and his head was pounding fit to explode. "Wh – what was…" he mumbled, losing strength with every syllable.

"What did we stick you with?" Don nodded weakly, his vision beginning to fade. "Nothing too serious. Just a little bit of something to get you out of our way for a while." He frowned. "You and your buddies are a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Good to hear," Don replied as the lights went out.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

"Granger."

"Agent Granger, this is Alan Eppes."

"Hey Mr. Eppes. How's Charlie doing?"

"He's had the MRI done. Now we're just waiting for the test results."

"That's good. I want you to know that he's in all of our thoughts."

"Thank you." Alan hesitated. "Is Don there?"

"What?" Colby asked with surprise. "He said he was at the hospital, with you. In fact, he just hung up with me a while ago to go with Charlie to the MRI." Colby's stomach twisted. "Did he say he was coming here?"

"He said he had to go to work," Alan spoke distractedly. "I made it clear that he should be with his brother, so he said he was going to call in and see about getting the time off. I haven't seen him since."

Colby picked up on the worry in Alan's voice and his own concern grew to match it. "Have you tried his cell?"

"Of course I have," Alan snapped. He instantly apologized. "I'm sorry, Agent Granger, I'm just so worried."

"It's Colby, and I understand completely."

"Colby!"

He looked up to see David standing in the doorway holding up a file.

"Hang on a sec, Mr. Eppes?" At Alan's mumbled consent, he lowered the phone and focused his attention on David. "What have you got?"

"We did some more checking on Michael Carbano. Ran the info on the ID again. Turns out there was a Mike Carbineaux in the system, and that was a doctored copy of his ID that was used."

"Where is he?"

"Dead."

Colby cocked his head and gave David a disbelieving look. "You're joking..."

"No. He was in a car accident two weeks ago and died while in the hospital. Infection from the emergency surgery."

Colby's felt a nagging in his gut. He had a hunch, and was terrified he might be right. "Which hospital was he taken to?"

"LA General."

Colby held up his hand toward David and put his cell back up to his ear. "Mr. Eppes," he called, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.

"I'm still here."

"I need you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to go into Charlie's room and guard the door. Don't let anybody in. And I mean _anybody_. Got it?"

"I don't understand."

"Just trust me on this, okay? Nobody goes in. Not even the doctor. I'm going to have a couple of agents there ASAP to help you out," he paused and gestured at David to send the agents, and then continued, "But until they get there, you have to keep everyone away from Charlie, okay?"

"Doctor, too," Alan repeated. He heard the concern in the agent's voice. He knew Don trusted and admired Colby, so Alan was willing to do what he said unquestioningly. "I'll be waiting."

"Good. Call me if you have any problems."

As Colby hung up, David began speaking. "What's all that about?"

"I have a feeling there might be someone on the inside at the hospital. Mike Carbineaux died at the same hospital where Charlie's being treated. The same hospital where Don has now gone missing."

"What?" David's alarmed cry was filled with anger and disbelief. "Let's go!"

"I'll call Megan and have her meet us over there." With that, Colby and David rushed from the office, each one praying Colby's hunch was wrong.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

. As he headed for Charlie's room, he tried to force his concern about Don to the side, knowing his oldest son could usually take care of himself. Charlie, on the other hand, was amnesiac, scared and right now very, very alone.

Alan reached the door to his son's room and flung it open, his eyes immediately going to his son's bed.

It was empty.

He frantically checked the bathroom and then the floor, concerned that Charlie might have fallen. He even checked under the bed, hoping that maybe a frightened Charlie had desperately sought refuge there. Nothing.

He rushed through the door, literally slamming into Dr. Girard on her way in. With a loud gasp, she fell to the floor, Alan very nearly landing on top of her.

"Mr. Eppes!" she admonished, before seeing the fear in his eyes. Her tone instantly softened. "What's wrong?"

"He's gone!"

"What?"

"Charlie's not here. Where is he?"

"Calm down, Mr. Eppes. Let's check with the nurses. Maybe something came up and they had to move him." Dr. Girard stood, with Alan's help. She confidently led them to the duty station and spoke the head nurse. "Gail, do you know if Charles Eppes has been moved to another room?"

"No," she answered uncertainly. "He was taken back down for another MRI."

"On whose orders?"

"According to the orderly, yours."

"I didn't…" the doctor began. She broke off when Alan grabbed the phone on the desk and quickly dialed a number. He drummed his fingers on the countertop impatiently. "Colby?" he said. "You were right. They've got Charlie, too."

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Charlie had been a little surprised when the orderly had shown up in his room. He'd been told there was a problem with his MRI results, and that he needed to be tested again. He had been nervous without his brother or father there, but then he'd remembered the worry and exhaustion he had seen in their eyes the past few days, and decided they could use a break. He'd followed the orderly to the elevator.

He was still trying to calm his nerves when he noticed the man take out an override key for the car and press the basement button.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked in a panicked whisper.

"We're going on a little trip," the orderly sneered.

"No!" Charlie desperately lunged for the elevator buttons, only to have the man grab him by the shirt collar and pin him against the wall.

"Listen up, Professor!" The orderly tightened his grip on Charlie's collar as he spoke. "We have your brother in the basement, too."

"Don?"

The orderly smiled at the sudden fear in the young man's eyes. "Yeah, the Fed."

"Is he okay?"

"For now, but something bad could happen real quick if you keep resisting me." The man's dangerous gaze bore into Charlie's. "Got it?"

Charlie swallowed nervously and nodded. He felt the man release the grip on his collar and breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall. His thoughts quickly turned to his brother. He briefly wondered if the man was lying about him, but then remembered the concerned look on his father's face as he had left him to go look for Don. His brother had been missing...

The elevator stopped, and the orderly grabbed Charlie's arm. He steered him out of the doors and down the basement corridor. They reached the door at the end and continued through to the underground parking area. Charlie's eyes adjusted to the dimness and he was able to make out an ambulance and a small gray car ahead. There was a blond man dressed in a paramedic's uniform leaning against the open trunk of the car. He smiled as Charlie came closer.

"Ah, Professor Eppes, we finally meet. I must say I've had a very difficult time getting a hold of you. You're brother was an especially annoying obstacle, but I finally managed to take care of that." He stepped away from the car trunk and Charlie gasped at what he saw.

Don was bound and gagged, his long body curled up so that it just fit in the tiny trunk. "Don!" Charlie called out, attempting to run to his side. He growled in frustration as the orderly held him in place. "Let me see my brother!"

"Let him go," the man in charge ordered.

Charlie rushed to his brother's side and placed his hand on Don's cheek, sighing with relief as he felt Don's warm breath across his hand. He studied his body, looking for signs of injury, but could find none, save for a small, swollen red area on the back of his neck. He glared up at the two men. "What did you do to him?" he demanded angrily.

"Nothing permanent, I can assure you," the blond man said. A menacing smile spread across his face. "But that can change if you don't cooperate." He reached behind his back and pulled a gun. He aimed it at Don's head and cocked the trigger.

"No!" Charlie yelled as the orderly grabbed him again and yanked him away from Don. "Please!"

The blond man released the hammer and turned to the younger Eppes. "All right, but you must follow my orders."

Charlie nodded, blinking back tears.

"Let my associate here strap you onto that stretcher in the back. No resisting, no calling for help, just do exactly as he says."

"Then you'll let him go?"

The man laughed. "I don't think so! We're going to be holding him as well, but at a different location than you. If you don't cooperate with everything we tell you, he dies. Understand?"

Charlie nodded mutely. He followed the orderly to the back of the ambulance, glancing over his shoulder at his brother for one last look.

The blond man waited until his companion returned. "He's ready to go."

"Good."

"What about _him_?" The orderly glared down at the unconscious agent.

The blond man lowered his voice to ensure Charlie didn't hear. "Make sure no one will find him until it's too late."

The orderly nodded. He watched as the blond man climbed into the ambulance and drove out of the deserted parking area. He turned his gaze back to Don and stared at his unconscious form before slamming the trunk shut. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag before rolling a dumpster behind the car, checking to make sure it was positioned just right. He started to flick the cigarette butt away, catching himself just in time. He knew he was in the system and didn't want to leave any calling cards as to his identity. He snuffed out the butt and tucked it into his pocket as he glanced back in the direction of the car. "Nice knowing you Fed," he muttered over his shoulder as he exited the garage.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Colby and David ran down the corridor to the duty station. They could see Alan Eppes standing next to the desk, talking to a woman in a long white lab coat.

"Mr. Eppes," David greeted. "What happened?"

Alan glanced at him sadly. "David… Colby," he began. "This is Charlie's physician – Doctor Samantha Girard." The three shook hands perfunctorily, and David repeated, "What happened, sir?"

Pausing to rub a hand over his tired face, Alan explained. "I had left the room to call Colby. Don said he was going out to phone the office – see about getting time off to stay with us – and he hadn't come back. I thought maybe he'd gone in anyway." The older man sighed. "But you told me he wasn't there," he added to Colby. "And then you warned me… I went back to the exam room." He threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "Charlie was already gone."

David put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. We'll find him." Colby asked, "Did anyone see Charlie leaving?"

Doctor Girard nodded. "Gail," she indicated the head nurse. "She saw Charlie get into the elevator with one of the orderlies."

"Which one?" David asked.

She looked puzzled. "I'm sorry? Do you mean which orderly? Or which elevator?"

Colby smiled. "Which elevator?" To David, he said, "I'll go get a statement from the nurse." The other agent nodded, turning to Doctor Girard.

"Well," she said hesitantly. "It would've been this one, here." She indicated the last car on a bank of elevators. "But it's since been locked."

"Locked? What does that mean?" They both jumped slightly when Alan spoke. He had been so quiet they'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Um," the resident took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It means… someone overrode the controls for the elevator to lock it on one floor." To David, she added, "It's used for emergencies, mostly."

The other man nodded. "And it's locked now?" he asked.

"Yes." She walked over to the silver doors and peered at the number beside it. "It looks like…" she trailed off. "That's odd."

"What?" David hurried to her side. "What's odd?"

"David!" Colby called, striding over. "The head nurse says she didn't recognize the orderly that came for Charlie, but she does remember the name on the tag." He face took on a wry expression. "Guess who?"

David sighed. "Michael Carbano."

"Exactly." Colby flipped his notebook shut. "What have you got?"

Pointing to the closed doors, David replied, "Charlie was taken in this elevator, and now it's locked down – emergency override."

"What floor?" Colby asked the doctor. Alan looked at the display.

"The basement," he said softly.

David and Colby exchanged looks. "I'm on it," Colby told him. David turned to the doctor. "Make sure no one touches this elevator, alright?" he asked. She nodded. "I mean no one." He listened as Granger called for a team to converge on their location. "We'll go down there and have a look around – Mr. Eppes?" When the older man looked at him, David went on. "I need you to stay here in case they call to make some kind of demand." Alan nodded. Turning to Doctor Girard, David asked, "What's in the basement?"

"Well, there's… uh," she thought hard. "Storage… and the housekeeping department…" She put one hand to her head. "And of course the gas supply for the hospital – but that area's alarmed. We would know if they went in there." David made as if to go with Colby. "Oh, wait!" she said suddenly. "There's a corridor – to the underground parking."

"Is that alarmed, too?" he asked.

Doctor Girard shook her head. "Not necessary – it's for hospital staff only. They have to use an ID card and a code to get in."

"Is there a record of who goes in and out?" The resident nodded. "I need you to get those for me." She rushed off and David turned to Colby. "Get the team to cover the entrance to the garage. You and I are heading to the basement."

Colby radioed the orders to the other team and turned to Alan. "When she gets that list I want you to call me." At Alan's nod he patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and raced after David. As he ran, he turned his phone to vibrate, so as not to alert any would be attackers.

Within minutes, David and Colby were at the stair exit to the basement. They stood there, silently signaling to each other, slightly out of breath from nerves and the sprint down the stairs. Once it was agreed – David would go in high and to the left, Colby low and to the right – they got into their stances. David silently counted to three and kicked the door open.

The basement hallway was short with only a few doors leading off and they quickly searched it all, coming to stand in front of the door to the parking area.

Ready? David silently mouthed. As Colby was about to nod, he felt his phone buzzing. He held up a silent finger and stepped away from the door.

"Yeah," he whispered, covering the phone and his mouth with his hand.

"Michael Carbano," Alan's excited voice informed him. "He drives a gray four-door Civic. I'm waiting on the license numb-"

"S'okay," Colby whispered as he cut the connection. He didn't mean to be rude but they needed to hurry. He made his way back to David and mouthed the car description. David nodded his understanding.

They agreed on the same entry method and, on three, swung the door open. They quickly sought cover in the wide open area, David finding an air unit to the left and Colby a dumpster to the right. They peeked from behind their cover and scanned the area, their hearts falling as they realized the deck was empty. Signaling each other, they left their cover and slowly walked the perimeter looking for any evidence or signs of life.

"Clear!" David called as he reached the exit to the parking area.

Colby was about to answer the same, when he heard a muffled thumping sound coming from behind a dumpster. He motioned to David and raised his gun. He waited for the other man to go around the other side of the large bin. They crept around, feeling their adrenaline spike as they found a gray Civic hidden behind the trash receptacle. The thumping was coming from the trunk and seemed to be growing weaker with each moment. David made sure Colby had the car covered and reached for a steel pipe in the open dumpster. He mimed prying the trunk open and Colby nodded solemnly, keeping his weapon trained on the vehicle.

David silently slid the pipe into the crack between the bumper and the trunk, his heart pounding. The thumping noise had ceased. He took a calming breath and levered his weight against the pipe, hearing the lock give. As the trunk started to lift, he tossed the pipe, stepped back and drew his gun, steeling himself for whatever they were about to find.

Both agents let out a gasp as the lid rose. Don was lying inside doubled up – and from the grey look on his face he was out of oxygen. Colby reached in and quickly removed the gag from his mouth. "Don!" he said, untying his hands. "Are you all right?"

David was taking the bindings from around Don's ankles. "Say something, Don!" he added.

"Damn!" Colby swore. "He's not breathing! Help me get him out of here!"

Colby lifted his boss's shoulders while David lifted his feet. Colby cringed and hoped they weren't aggravating any injuries Don might have, but he knew that restoring his breathing was imperative. He and David laid Don flat on his back, and Colby placed his fingers against Don's throat. "He's got a pulse!" Colby cried as he began rescue breathing.

David nodded as he called Alan. "Mr. Eppes, tell Dr. Girard that we need an EMT unit to the underground parking area immediately!"

"You found them?" Alan demanded.

"We found Don but we need those paramedics ASAP."

"Oh, God," Alan breathed into the phone. David heard him shifting the phone away from his ear, and his strong authoritative voice demanding the medical staff's attention. More shuffling noises as Alan returned to the phone. "They're on their way. Tell me, David..."

"We found him in a car trunk." David stopped short of telling him that Don wasn't currently breathing on his own. He swallowed nervously and forced his voice to remain calm. "No sign of Charlie."

"I understand," Alan replied with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Just make sure you get Don up here. I can't lose both my boys in one day."

"You won't, Mr. Eppes." David glanced over to where Colby was wearily but triumphantly crouched by Don, still unconscious, but now breathing on his own. "I promise."

TBC


End file.
